It Only Hurts When I'm Breathing
by Pickled Rellish
Summary: Why would two families have children during a war? Because Dumbledore got a tip off from the Divinations teacher and asked the Longbottom’s and Potter’s - the only two intact couples in relationships - to try to have a child. AU!


**Author's Notes: **Something brand-spanking-new. This plot bunny was actually the reason I got back into the HP world, and now… it's finally wrote. Took me long enough. I do hope you enjoy it. An update for, _'Nappies and Naked Dancing'_ is forth coming to all those who are following that, so no worries.

**Notes:** I want it to be ten months before Harry and Neville were born to have the Batty Woman do her predicting, otherwise, this plot bunny wouldn't have worked. And we couldn't have had that. Plus, this is a one-shot and features a death - which is pretty obvious, if you ask me.

**Summary:** Why would two families have children during a war? Because Dumbledore got a tip off from the Divinations teacher and asked the Longbottom's and Potter's - the only two intact couples in relationships - to try to have a child. AU!

**Dedication:** This goes out to **Star** - as does most of my crap - just because she's always there to bounce ideas off, and she throws them back twice as fast. She's a real asset to have, and I'd be lost without her.

**Disclaimer:** Nope. Not mine. Imagine the possibilities if they were though!

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And it only hurts when I'm breathing,  
My heart only breaks when it's beating.  
My dreams only die when I'm dreaming,  
So, I hold my breath- to forget.

Shania Twain - It Only Hurts When I'm Breathing.

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**It Only Hurts When I'm Breathing  
**By Pickled Rellish 

Thick black locks of hair stuck up from out beneath the blanket before a weathered, winkled hand brushed them down in a somewhat vain effort to flatten the errant strands. The same hand travelled down to a peach-soft cheek, a finger momentarily fluttering across a lighting-blot shaped scar that marred the sleeping baby's, otherwise flawless, face. The child's breathing was slow and irregular, his tiny nose twitching as he slept on despite this fact, curled up snugly in a blanket that was slightly burnt and blackened.

A gusty sigh left the lips from the old man as he removed his hand from where it'd been cradling the child's cheek. "You can do nothing?" The voice sounded as old as hands had looked, the words thick and layered with the dying hopes of a last ditch effort.

"I've tried everything, Albus, I really have, but I can't stop the chain reaction that the Curse has caused. It's shutting down all of his vital organs and the only thing I can do, is give him the strongest painkiller one can with a child." The Hogwarts Nurse cast her gaze over to the peacefully sleeping babe, the only one in the room who was unaware as to what was happening to him. "Was it definitely the Killing Curse that… You-Know-Who cast?"

"Indeed."

"Then why didn't it just… _kill _him like it'd done with James and Lily?" the words came from the ever querying McGonagall, her voice hitching only slightly, as she dabbed at the corner of her eyes with a handkerchief.

Dumbledore seemed to ponder this question, his blue eyes faded to a murky grey as he stared at the infant, his hand once more coming up to brush away some hair off his forehead. This action allowed for the rooms occupants to clearly see the angry red mark upon his brow. "I think I owe you an apology, Harry, my child, but I fear that won't be enough. For I **am** sorry, child; terribly sorry."

"Albus?"

If Dumbledore had heard the Transfiguration Professor, he didn't acknowledge it. His hand kept smoothing away the wayward hair from Harry's sleeping face, only to have it flop right back again after a moment. "Lily and James never wanted a child so early on in their relationship, and most definitely not while the Order was in the middle of a war with Voldemort," a collective flinch followed this word by McGonagall and Pomfrey, yet this too was ignored by Dumbledore as he continued, "and his Death Eaters."

"What're you saying, Albus?" came McGonagall's voice. "I don't quite understand what…" her words trailed off as the Headmaster began talking once more, letting out a tired sigh as he did.

"It was after I came back from meeting our current Divination Professor that I propositioned the Potter's, and the Longbottom's, and asked both couples to bear children. They are, as you know, the only two intact couples whom are, and where, in relationships within the Order. The Longbottom's were delighted and agreed immediately." The old man paused a moment as Harry's face screwed up, drew in a shuddering hiccup-type breath and let out a low whine. The painkiller obviously wasn't that good; it wasn't stopping all of the pain. "The Potter's, however, were reluctant to do so, and only with my prodding did they, eventually, agree."

"Lily and James _loved _little Harry though, Albus. I honestly cannot see where you're going with this." Getting somewhat flustered now, McGonagall swept underneath her eyes with a hanky, fixing her square-framed glasses as she did, sending the Headmaster a watery, teary-eyed look.

"I am not denying that fact, Minerva. I couldn't , and wouldn't, ever speak ill of the dead after all." Dumbledore's eyes watched as the infant squirmed in the blankets more, his tiny scarred face screwing up in even more pain. "Poppy, if you could please administer some more painkiller to Harry."

The Matron chewed on her bottom lip, mulling over the idea of giving more of the electric blue potion to the child in question, before she pinched her eyebrows together and injected Harry with more. The needle slowly slipped into his arm and the blue liquid pumped into the small body until the syringe was empty. The relief that washed over the slightly red face of the child, dispelled any grievances about feeding him more of the potion. "I'm afraid that's all I can give him, Albus. Otherwise overdosing would be a risk," she said, her voice only wavering slightly.

"It's a terrible shame that euthanasia is illegal in the United Kingdom, my child. A terrible shame." muttered the old man, as he reached up and lifted Harry into his arms, the weight of the fourteen month old child, was only slight and minimal. The infant opened its eyes, their green depths murky and misty, and while looking up at Dumbledore, he coughed - the liquid from his lungs bubbled up through his mouth and dribbled down to stain the blanket. But he didn't wince in pain and merely closed his eyes once more. Tired. "Please forgive me," he cradled the child close to his chest, his beard long and flowing over the child as he bent his head down to kiss the top of the boy's crown.

"Albus… you don't possibly believe that this is _your _fault, do you?"

"I'm afraid, Minerva, it is. For while the Potter's adored Harry, their flesh and blood; their child, I fear that they resented him, if only a little, too. It is this old man's belief that Lily and James would have conceived on their own, that is, without my pushing and prodding, and in that case scenario, I believe we wouldn't be were we are now."

The child that was still nestled in Dumbledore's warm embrace, started to show difficulty in breathing; making short, painful sounding gasps that sent the Head of Gryffindor into another emotional breakdown. Poppy snapped her eyes to the Monitoring spell, watching as the charm wrote out what was wrong onto a piece of parchment; the words scribbled along as it went as fast as it could to keep up with the increasing changes with the little boy. "Albus," she cut in, eyes furiously reading the information. "His heart, it's failing."

Dumbledore closed his eyes, bringing the gasping child closer to his chest as he did, his beard tickling Harry's soft cheek as he was pressed up against it. "Lily's love for you, dear Harry, got you this far. Her love blocked the curse so that it didn't kill you outright, there and then…" the fight for breath was growing slower, and a few frustrated tears escaped from underneath Harry's closed eyes. He couldn't feel the pain coursing through his tiny body, because of the amount of painkiller that had been administered to him...

"His lungs are collapsing, Albus."

His breathing had all but stopped, his tiny chest refused to move just as his heart refused to beat. "But it wasn't enough," the Headmaster of Hogwarts muttered, his voice low and thick with tears and regret. "It wasn't enough love to save you outright, because you were just a Tool. A Tool for the Light… and that is my fault." The old man, with his wrinkled hands and wiry arms, brought the unmoving child even closer to himself; placing yet another kiss onto the top of his forehead. "For that, I'm sorry beyond words, Harry my boy. Please… **forgive** me."

Poppy turned away from the display, blowing her nose into a handkerchief while McGonagall sobbed openly into her own hanky, all dignity lost. And as Harry's last tears trailed down his slowly cooling, yet relaxed, face, they were joined by Dumbledore's own tears, and the drops mingled with each other before being caught up by the child's favourite blanket.

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Hurts when I'm breathing,  
Breaks when it's beating.  
Die when I'm dreaming,  
It only hurts when I breathe.

Shania Twain - It Only Hurts When I'm Breathing.

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End file.
